Most, however, were convinced that it would shorten the war and bring the suicidal resistance of the Japanese to a halt. Once Japan was finished, then all of the might of the United States, nuclear or not, could be turned against the Nazis who still clung on to life in what used to be Austria and northern Italy.
The news was sent to President Truman, who was in conference with Stalin and the new British Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, in the German city of Potsdam, outside Berlin. During the conversations with Stalin, Truman hinted about the success of the test bomb, code-named Trinity. He would later recall that Stalin appeared singularly unimpressed by the news. Truman at first thought it was because he hadn’t made himself clear to Stalin or that Uncle Joe just didn’t understand enough science to comprehend that a new day had dawned in the history and progress of man. It wouldn’t be until later that Truman and others would realize that Stalin’s spies, most notably Klaus Fuchs, had been keeping him informed on the Manhattan Project’s progress and that the Soviet Union was well on its way to developing its own bomb.
* * *
Staff Sergeant Billy Hill was the first from the division’s headquarters to arrive at the site of the slaughter. A message from his friend, Sergeant Jerome Higgins, had sent him to the site. Higgins met him. His face was pale and it looked like there was vomit on his jacket.
“Right this way,” Higgins said, “and you can see what the bastards have done this time.”
A short trek through the woods took them to a clearing where three long rows of bodies had been laid out with military precision. They were facedown, dressed in rags, and their hands had been tied behind them. From the grayness of their skin, he guessed they’d been lying there for a couple of days. Birds and squirrels had been at them and most were missing their eyes and he wondered what other soft parts as well. They had all been shot in the back of the skull. At least they’d died quickly, he thought, and then wondered what had been going through their minds as the others were executed. Had one person been the executioner, in which case their wait had to have been excruciating, or had there been a number of men blowing their brains out? He decided he didn’t really want to know.
Hill started to count and Higgins interrupted him. “I’ll save you the trouble, Billy. There are two hundred and seven of them.”
“Thanks,” Hill said, again trying to hold down the bile rising in his throat. He had seen death in battle, even caused it, but this was different. This was like Dachau, only on a smaller, more intimate scale. The numbers of dead at the concentration camp were too large to comprehend. But this was different. What made it worse was that the end of the war might just be around the corner. Jesus, how much longer could the Nazis hang on?
“Hey, Sarge.”
Hill wheeled and recognized the private who had argued with him about the merits of continuing the fighting. He was pale and it looked like he had been weeping. “What do you want, Private?” Hill snapped.
“I want to let you know that I changed my mind and want to apologize for what I said earlier. The pricks who did this have to be dug out of the mud and slime where they’re hiding and killed before there can be real peace.”
Hill nodded. The private held out his hand and Hill took it. “I’m really sorry, Sarge.”
“Forget it. I made a mistake once too. I’m just thankful I can’t recall it.”
They heard another jeep pull up and a few minutes later a grim-faced Tanner emerged from the woods along with Doctor Hagerman. After appropriate greetings, Tanner and Hagerman walked down the lines of corpses. “This place is out of the way, Higgins, how did you find them?”
“The birds were a giveaway. That and the stench, of course.”
“Of course.” Tanner had been so transfixed by the site that he had scarcely noticed the smell. Now it was almost overwhelming.
“Look at how emaciated they are,” Hill said. “Either the Nazi shits are deliberately starving their slave laborers or they’re running out of food.”
“Or maybe both,” Tanner said.
“We found someone’s briefcase, sir,” said Higgins. “The Germans are so well organized that they actually listed the names of the people they’d shot.”
He held out his hand. “Let me see the list.” He had told Lena where he was going and why. Thank God she hadn’t insisted on accompanying him. He scanned it and saw no one by the name of Bobek or Bobekova. It was a small blessing.
“What do we do with the bodies?” Higgins asked.
Hill laughed. “Why not bring up a bunch of German prisoners and let them dig a whole lot of graves?”
Higgins nodded and Tanner smiled grimly. “Great, but first let’s find a bunch of correspondents who can record this.” But he wondered if they would bother, he thought. The reporters might just think that one more atrocity was small potatoes and no big deal. Sadly, they’d be right.
Higgins was puzzled. “Doc, how come they ain’t stiff? Shouldn’t they be in rigor mortis?”
“Not necessarily. Bodies get stiffened by rigor after a number of hours and then come out of it and are limp and flexible again. Their condition only proves what we already know, that they were killed a couple of days ago.”
“Any other observations?” Tanner inquired.
“I’m not a pathologist, but I’ll confirm what everyone suspects. These were slave laborers and my bet is that they came from Dachau to work on the German defenses. It’s also apparent that they have been mistreated and poorly fed, if at all. I’d make another bet that they were executed because they were too weak to work.”
Tanner nodded. “And that also confirms that the Nazis don’t have enough food to keep their slaves alive. That’s good to know. By the way, Doctor Hagerman, you’re really good at this battlefield analysis stuff. I never did ask you, but what was your medical specialty?”
Hagerman shrugged. “Pediatrics.”
Two hours later, Tanner and Hagerman arrived back at the division headquarters. Soldiers and civilians were milling around and talking loudly. Cullen ran up to the jeep. “Gentlemen, you seem to know a lot, so please answer a question.”
“Cullen, you have my permission to test both my brain and my patience.”
“Great, now what the hell is a Hiroshima?”
* * *
Josef Goebbels was pale and his hands were shaking. The news broadcast by the Americans was staggering in its implications. Could one bomb have utterly destroyed a city of more than three hundred thousand? It was impossible to comprehend. Or was it? The Reich had killed millions in the camps, so what were a few tens of thousands more?
Now he understood what Doctor Abraham and his cohorts were working on. Until now, it was nothing more than theory. Now, Abraham’s bomb had to work in order for any trace of the Third Reich to survive.
And was it so terrible that the bomb had fallen on the Japanese? They were an inferior race whose military successes had been against third-rate powers like China or an unprepared United States. No. A world with a few hundred thousand fewer Japanese and their stupid code of Bushido and worship of their emperor would be a better place.
What concerned him was the next shoe dropping. Where there was one bomb, there had to be two. Or three. Or possibly many more. The first bomb over Hiroshima had been a message. The Japanese would ultimately surrender even if it took turning the Home Islands into floating cinders. Now it was obvious that the Americans would not have to invade Japan proper, just burn it from a distance. This meant that many of the American troops being sent to Asia could be returned to Germany for a final and massive assault against the Redoubt. It could also mean that future nuclear weapons could be dropped on Bregenz or anywhere else in Germanica. The Americans had promised not to bomb near the Swiss border, but would the Yanks continue to honor that promise if it meant ending the war? He knew precisely what he would do and to hell with the Swiss.